


Hell to Pay

by Universeof7plus2plus1stars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crossover, Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Crowley's Plans, Crowley's Sunglasses (Good Omens), Demons are Bad At Feelings, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Feelings, Humor, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Lucifer Morningstar is So Done, Mazikeen is Confused, Mazikeen is Good at Being a Demon, Multi, No Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Punishment, Relationship Discussions, Self-Indulgent, Snarky Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Universeof7plus2plus1stars/pseuds/Universeof7plus2plus1stars
Summary: After Crowley crosses paths with Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, he's about to learn the hard way about the consequences.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Eve/Mazikeen (Lucifer TV) (discussed)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 179





	1. A Problematic Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story mainly because I like reading Hurt!Crowley fics, but the majority of them contains angst and graphic torture. The thing is, I can't handle angst and graphic torture, so I wrote a Hurt!Crowley fic with no angst, humor and lots of dialogue.
> 
> I'll update the tags as I go, but let me know if I should change the rating/warnings or add anything.

Cold, hard floor. That was the first thing Crowley noticed after coming to his senses. He was kneeling on the cold, hard and fancily polished floor of… of...

This would be the fourth time Crowley hadn’t the slightest idea with regard to where he was upon waking up. He really hoped that he had learnt from his past errors (although demons shouldn’t be able to hope) after the memorable occasion of finding himself in the midst of a literal shipwreck in the Pacific Ocean after a night of heavy drinking in Amsterdam.

But right now, he had no idea where he was. He was feeling sort of sleepy and somewhat dizzy, as well as obviously puzzled, but he tried to do his best to take in his surroundings. The expensive floor, the fancy odors, the oddly sensual and rebelliously loud utter _bebop_ \--

“Hello there” came the greeting of a chillingly charming voice he knew all too well. Crowley collected all his strength and lifted his head to see a figure half-hidden in the shadows. If only he could stop this blessed ringing…

The demon reflexively moved his fingers to snap, but, to his major surprise, he couldn’t. His wrists were bound and chained to a _metal thingy_ above his head, stopping him from standing up. Another thingy held his fingers apart from each other, making it impossible to summon the powers of Hell and perform a miracle. Fine. He could talk himself out of this. At least he still had his… Where in the bloody… WHERE WERE HIS GLASSES?

“No miracles today, eh?” continued the voice, almost breezily. To distract himself from the fact that the bloody bastard TOOK AWAY HIS GLASSES, Crowley wondered how he hadn’t noticed before how similar his voice sounded to Gabriel’s. Except for the darkness, of course. And for the… was that a British accent?

The voice, however, didn’t give him more time to think, but stepped forward to show himself. Crowley did his best to suppress a frown and another sigh. Here he was, face to face with the Devil, wrapped in a disgustingly handsome corporation and sipping on something that looked too strong for Crowley’s taste. And, naturally, for his metabolism. He preferred not to think about how much alcohol the Prince of Darkness could consume before getting sloshed. A lot, probably.

It was strange to see the Devil like that, looking all too much like a human. In Hell, he had only seen his devil form. Nobody actually talked to the First One Who’s Fallen, it was enough seeing him to fear him.

“My Lord” snarled the demon with a (more or less) intentionally awkward half-bow and the maximum amount of sarcasm, but it did not get him the reaction he wanted. Lucifer huffed and made a bored gesture with his hand.

Needless to say, this confused Crowley even more. He had heard rumors that the Devil have spent _years_ on Earth, solving crimes and such, but never gave them much credibility. The Devil solving crimes? Hah! But, if the rumors were true, it would be all too strange that in all those years, Lucifer still hadn’t heard about the offensiveness of sarcasm.

“We can skip the formalities, I’ve had more than enough of those” he said in a tone that was supposed to make everything obvious, but did nothing of the sort. Crowley stared at him blankly.

“You don’t know what happened? Well. There was this prophecy that said if the Devil is reunited with his first love, it will be the end of the world. Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Crowley continued - to stare blankly, that is. Then a spark of reminiscence hit him. Aziraphale _may have had_ a rant about this prophecy he found in one of his books and how they should definitely help avert its fulfillment. But don’t humans schedule an apocalypse for every year or so? Aziraphale’s rant was probably only about profiteroles.

“Right. In a nutshell: after the first part of the prophecy was fulfilled - me being reunited with my first love, that is - my wings turned all red and devilish. Then a bunch of demons came to Earth and kidnapped Amenadiel’s son to make him ruler of Hell. We managed to save the child, but I was forced to return to Hell - for a short time anyway. The world surprisingly didn’t end, but the whole thing was quite exhausting - I’m jet-lagged, as the humans say.”

Crowley wasn't impressed, nor delighted. He just realized that he had missed out on a LOT and now he’ll have to tell all that to Aziraphale, before he finds out on his own. It was a terrible mistake introducing him to the Internet.

“Now, let’s get to business, shall we? Do you know why you’re here?” Crowley lifted one eyebrow and lowered another. It was Lucifer’s turn to sigh.

“I’ll need another drink. Mazikeen! Darling?”

“Don’t you ever call me that. I don’t work for you, and it was 100% my choice to come. I can leave anytime” answered a female voice and another figure stepped out of the shadows. This one was a slight, annoyed woman, dressed in all leather. She grabbed the empty glass and replaced it with another, glancing at Crowley for no more than a second.

“You two have met already, haven’t you?”

“Briefly” answered Crowley through clenched teeth. He silently thanked _Someone_ that their encounter was brief. Mazikeen was one of the better torturers of Hell and he was hoping not to have a longer encounter. This day had just got from Very Bad to Downright Awful.

“I don’t remember him, though. Why is he special again?” said Mazikeen, returning without the empty glass.

“He was the original tempter” started the Devil, before being interrupted.

“Wasn’t that you?”

“Let’s just say he tempted Eve into sin with the apple, before I arrived with the banana. Now, can I continue?” Mazikeen frowned, but nodded. “Thank you. As I said, he was the original tempter, snake of Eden if you like --”

“Wait, so he was a snake?”

“Yes, Mazikeen. He still has a snake form, but he cannot show us right now. I’m trying to answer a question here. Need I remind you that it was asked by you, therefore it makes no sense for you to interrupt?”

An eye roll. “No, my Lord” answered Mazikeen with a decidedly demonic grin. Lucifer, yet again, sighed before turning to Crowley.

“She likes to address me like that. Finds it to be humorous, though I fail to recognise _why_ . Now, can I continue? Yes? Great. Yes, he’s the original tempter AND a snake and do you know what else, hmm, Maze? No? He actually stopped an apocalypse, _the_ Apocalypse, specifically. For which I am grateful, by the way. I didn’t see it back then, but the Earth really does have some things I’m rather fond of.”

Mazikeen huffed. Having known Lucifer for the longest time, she deemed the patronizing tone unnecessary. Lucifer’s intention to appear menacing forced her to suppress the urge to say people. He’s rather fond of people.

At this point, Crowley was inches away from making a ‘grmffmph’ sound in confusion. This was all very _nice_ , chit-chatting about tempting people and averting the Armageddon, but if that was the point, he could very well get up and leave. He really felt like leaving.

“Now, onto the important part. You are here because you have stolen from me. To be more exact, you have stolen a precious book of mine” continued the Devil, possibly even darker. 

‘OH. SO THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT’ thought Crowley, finally understanding the situation. It happened several weeks ago and, to be completely honest, Crowley could have seen that it was a bad idea. Why do bad ideas only seem bad when you have to suffer the consequences?

The story’s the following: Aziraphale had been complaining about craving the first edition of Dante’s Inferno for such a long time that he had annoyed the demon to near discorporation. It was back then that an information arrived to him, claiming that the Devil was in Los Angeles, running a nightclub as a job and helping the police as a hobby. Naturally, he found it ridiculous and even yelled at the human that delivered it, but it sounded like the perfect excuse to take a little break.

So, after explaining the reason behind his departure to the angel, he miracled himself to the City of Angels and decided to explore the club called Lux. To his distress, the club was flashy and noisy, filled with rich people keen on showing too much skin. Not seeing the Devil downstairs, he decided to explore the first floor.

To his immense surprise, upstairs he encountered an impressive collection of books and artifacts, all too rare to be owned by a human. This was, of course, no proof that they were owned by the Devil either, so Crowley felt free to look around a little. After just a few minutes of observing the collection, he had found himself looking at… He was supposed to be _unlucky_. He was looking at the well-preserved first edition of Dante’s Inferno.

Now, of course he couldn’t leave without it, but still he felt… Nope. He didn’t feel even the slightest of guilt as he carefully removed it from the bookshelf, and replaced it with a miracled copy that looked exactly the same. Nobody would notice.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?” interrupted Lucifer, looking at him impatiently. Crowley decided that this was not the time for resistance.

“T’was a gift. A gift to Aziraphale.”

“Right! I forgot about the naughty little angel. Doesn’t like to follow orders, does he?” asked Lucifer conversationally, but with a rather annoying grin.

“He doesn’t follow orders that are stupid” corrected the demon with a snarl. This whole thing suddenly seemed frightfully close to his trial. Aziraphale’s trial, anyway. He didn’t participate in his, after all.

“Well. As much as I would like to set aside the torture part and skip to you begging for forgiveness, I’m afraid I cannot let such a deed go unpunished” concluded the Devil, seemingly finished with what he planned to say and lowering himself into a chair.

Crowley shifted uncomfortably, but froze immediately when he saw Mazikeen step to him and circle him like a bloody prey.

“It’s been so long since the last time!” she exclaimed with visible pleasure. “This brings back _memories_.”

She stepped closer to Crowley, who glared at her hard, but Mazikeen seemed unbothered. Finally, she stopped in front of the other demon and grabbed the front of his jacket to tear it open with force. That made Crowley _mad_. He could endure torture, kidnapping, even concerning Aziraphale, but threatening to manhandle his clothes was definitely crossing the line.

“Stop!” he yelled with a snarl, making Mazikeen stop just in time and earning a very confused look from Lucifer.

“I... based on what I know about you, I really didn’t think you would be broken _this_ easily. Childhood trauma, I assume? Already missing the angel? Or is being kidnapped a trigger for you? Whatever’s the case, I assure you I would have preferred to see you suffer for a bit, but since we’re already there, fine, I’ll make her stop. Now let me hear that apology.”

Crowley, confused as ever, stared blankly for about half a minute, before realizing that the Devil wasn’t using sarcasm. He cleared his throat and readied himself to clear the misunderstanding.

“Ah. Gph. My jacket” he started, and continued with a dramatic expression when that explanation didn’t seem satisfactory. “She was about to tear open my jacket.”

“Why, yes. I suspected you understood that human bodies are more vulnerable when unclothed, given the long time you spent on Earth” replied the Devil, still completely clueless.

“But, m-- You could just miracle it away!” exclaimed Crowley, frustrated by this point. Mazikeen and Lucifer exchanged a look.

“I can’t do it” said Mazikeen, seemingly carelessly. “Demons forged in Hell don’t have the powers of a fallen angel.” Crowley, failing at acting like the victim, questioningly looked at Lucifer.

“Wha-- Don’t look at me! You both know I lost most of my angelic powers when I Fell, being the first and all that…”

“But you can still do miracles…”

“Yes, Mazikeen, I can, but I’ll let you know I have much better use for my powers then using them for petty miracles! Besides, I find it quite unnecessary when we’re talking about the… _well-being_ of someone I’m literally punishing!” snapped Lucifer, earning himself the two demons’ (strictly and certainly relative, also, momentary) dread.

“Well then. Go on!” he continued and the demon Mazikeen stepped back to her task. Crowley considered protesting, saying that _he_ could use a miracle, but he felt dizzy from the thought of prolonging the previous argument, therefore his stay at the penthouse. Better get this damned thing over with.

He still found it really hard not to yelp when the other demon tore off his jacket and shirt, leaving him with a naked (vulnerable) upper body. Spending most of his time with the angel seemed to have taken its toll on him, at least regarding the state of his clothes. He learned to hate when they got damaged. Now he’ll have to miracle the pieces back together and he would get meaningful glances from Aziraphale for _years_. Miracling it back was not the same.

His elaborate though process was interrupted by a firm and menacing hand in his hair, pulling it backwards. He looked up at an irritatingly amused-looking Mazikeen and couldn’t help but give her the tightest of a snarl.

That was received with a straight-out grin - and a sharp backhand. Crowley knew that it was only a warning hit (all those spy movies were finally paying off), but it stang bad, and he never quite liked pain, unlike _certain beings_.

“Try that again” encouraged the other demon, looking like she really was having the time of her life. “You’re not scary, you know.”

“I’m not ssscary? I’m much sscarier than him” hissed Crowley, and knew he made a mistake as soon as he said it.

“How dare you!” exclaimed Lucifer in indignation, but not offended enough to stand up. “I’m the Lord of Hell, the Prince of Darkness --”

“Former” corrected Mazikeen, immediately biting her lip and earning herself an exasperated glare.

“That doesn’t matter! I’m… _I’m scary_. I scare the living hell out of the criminals who dare to do me wrong.”

“You were sssscarier last time we met” continued Crowley, deciding that he couldn’t really get himself into a situation much worse than this.

“Wha-- Last time?! Oh” stopped the Devil, realizing that “last time” referred to the Nahmageddon.

“Yeah, you were all big and monster-y. What happened since then? Lossst ssome power? Became a friendly neighbourhood devil?”

“Yeeah, really, what happened? It’s not like you get all big and rise out of Hell every few decades or so…”

“I was going through a difficult time, okay? You have no right to talk to me like that! Would you just --?” continued Lucifer with an obscure gesture.

Before Crowley would have had the time to figure out what it meant, he felt the pointy end of a shoe painfully connect with his stomach. He was about to exaggeratedly fall forward, but a hand already pulled him back to his knees.

“Do continue” came the instruction, and a stronger blow to the jaw made Crowley groan despite his effort to look as cool as possible. It vaguely crossed his mind that they were planning a small walk with Aziraphale. If the angel notices that he was kidnapped, he’ll likely get overly worried and look for him. Aziraphale finding him here, enchained and beaten up would have Consequences. Consequences that right now he didn’t want to consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind of surprised at how well I could fit the world of Good Omens and Lucifer together. It might have been logical to say that the Nahpocalypse of Good Omens was the same event as the (almost)-End-of-the-World in season 4 of Lucifer, but some things didn't add up, so I decided to separate the two. So Nahmageddon happened according to Book Canon and the prophetic End-of-the-World happened in real time, in the alternate 2019.
> 
> I was inspired by a fic in which Crowley steals a book from Lucifer's library and gives it to Aziraphale. I don’t remember the name of the author, nor the title, but if anyone knows the fic I'd be happy to give them credit.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! If you liked this, please leave a kudos and comment, I really appreciate it.


	2. An Interrupted Punishment

Aziraphale was having a lovely, quiet afternoon. After dissuading two more customers from buying anything, he closed the bookshop and started to re-organize a smaller section. He barely noticed the passing of time, that was until the antique clock striked 5pm. He fondly put the book currently in his hands back in its place and set about making himself a tea while waiting for the fiend to arrive. He had the feeling that Crowley was going to be late.

***

If Crowley didn’t yet lose his sense of time, about 20 minutes had passed since he came to his senses. He was over a moderately excruciating, but thorough beating which he wouldn’t have minded much, if it hadn’t put an annoyingly amused smirk on the face of Lucifer. He distracted himself by imagining various, increasingly creative ways of wiping it off.

By now, he had obtained some deeper bruises and seriously considered keeping one or two, just for the sake of attractiveness. The only downside to that would be Aziraphale’s reaction, who, may Crowley think it out loud, never was the one to know much about fashion. Every human with a common sense knew that scars were attractive.

What brought him back to reality wasn’t the pain, but the suspicious lack of it. The demon sleepily cleared his mind and focused his eyes. Lucifer was still there (and still smirking), but the demon named Mazikeen has disappeared of his view. The footsteps behind his back suggested that she was still there, though Crowley couldn’t turn his neck enough to see what she was doing - despite being a snake.

Then - even more suspiciously - the footsteps stopped. There was a strange waft of air and then there was a crack. Crowley arched forward and felt a sharp pain that numbed most of his brain functions (even if his brain didn't need to function at all).

Mazikeen smiled a very demonic smile and held the whip victoriously, before striking again. A stubbornly insistent thought managed to flash through Crowley. That is, exactly how much chance he’d have of acquiring a new corporation after his beef with Downstairs. Not much, he figured with a grimace.

The whip swayed again and Crowley braced himself for the third hit... but it didn’t come.

“Lucifer?”

Crowley opened his clenched eyes and saw a middle-aged female human standing by the elevator, taking in the scenario before her with an incredulous expression.

“Detective! Ah… Do we have a new case?” asked the Devil, standing up from the armchair with apparent excitement.

“I… I can come back later, if you need more time to finish your… whatever it is you’re doing” answered the woman, vaguely gesturing in the direction of Crowley. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying hard to decide if he should be offended by what she  _ thought _ was happening.

“But detective... I assure you, this is exactly nothing like what it looks like! Alright, it is what it looks like, but not in the sense that you imagine --”

“Whatever, I’ll just wait outside. You know, I can tolerate your… kinky…” Chloe tried to explain, shooting a disapproving look to Mazikeen who couldn’t help but burst out in a not-so-menacing snort. “...Whatever this is, but I need to…” she stopped again, realizing that Lucifer was now standing in front of her, gently stroking her hair with his hand.

“You do know that I would never touch anyone other than you...?”

“I… Yes, I know that.”

“And I would never be sexually involved with anyone other than you?”

Chloe blushed, but answered. “Yes.”

“I’ll try not to get into too many compromising situations, then. I promise” he whispered, then turned sharply on his heels, to instruct Mazikeen. “Finish with him while I’m out. You can go on a little longer, but I don’t want to see him here when I come back. Do you understand?”

“You do owe me a favour!” shouted the demon, because Lucifer was already in the elevator.

“Please! You’re loving every second of it” he shouted back, and the elevator doors closed in on what looked like an intimate kiss.

“Disgusting” remarked Crowley with a faked shiver, hoping to somehow get on the same page.

“Don’t tell me” replied the other demon with a sigh. “They do that 24/7. They coo and they  _ schmooze _ . I honestly don’t know how long I can take it.”

Crowley looked up at Mazikeen. She was staring in the direction of the elevator with an expression remarkably far from disgust. He hesitated if he should say something, but the other demon broke the staring and focused back at her task, muttering something unintelligible. Crowley had one last card up his sleeve and pulling it seemed to be worth a try.

“You know, you don’t really have to torture me.” That earned such a laugh that his eyebrow reflexively lifted itself.

“No, I’m serious. Don’t you wanna disobey a little? Cease being Lucifer’s pet?” he continued with all the persistence of an optimist. For a few moments, there was no reaction. Then Mazikeen leaned close to his ear.

“Maybe for you it’s hard to notice, but it’s about time you realized that I’m a  _ demon _ . I enjoy torturing people.  _ Especially traitors _ ” and with that, the whip landed again, this time a bit lower. Crowley was thankful that Mazikeen left him a few moments’ time, to properly savour the pain. That time could be used for thinking.

“If I were you I’d stop” he spit, slightly panting. “If you go on for too long, Aziraphale will find me. He’ll sense the damage in my occult aura and come here. And you don’t want him here, trust me.” For a few seconds, there was no answer. Then the answer arrived... and it was about the furthest from what Crowley could imagine.

“Yeah, are you two dating?”

“Wot?”

“Dating. Having sex. Are you doing it?” That made Crowley splutter.

“Fffsph?! Wh-- We’re FRIENDS!”

“I mean, that’s pretty obvious. And nothing more?” she asked, crossing her hands in front of her chest. Crowley frowned.

“Why… Does it even matter? Why are you interested?”

“I’m not” replied Mazikeen with a grimace, lifting the whip again. Crowley recognized his chance of gaining time. With the right topic, of course.

“I see that Satan’s dating… A human, no less” he offered with some uncertainty.

“Believe it or not, she’s not an ordinary woman” Mazikeen replied with a snort. “And, hate to admit, but they do have something special.”

Crowley did his best attempt at shrugging his shoulder.

“I wonder how he’ll feel when she dies on him” he added with a tad more evilness than usual.

“She won’t though” protested Mazikeen, walking behind Crowley’s back and, to his smug relief, returning without the whip. “She’s a blessed child. Chosen for him specifically by daddy.”

“Bit weird, if you ask me. Making him Fall, but still controlling who he falls in love with” explained Crowley, carefully pronouncing the word ‘love’ with about as much distaste as possible. “Pun not intended.”

“He hates it and I don’t blame him. Hated it, at least” replied Mazikeen, leaning on the table closest to him. There was a long silence.

“What about you?” asked Crowley, desperate to keep the conversation going.

“What  _ about _ me?”

“You have a boyfriend?” he repeated with an expression that made Mazikeen question why she had put down the whip in the first place.

“I don’t. Demons don’t love. Normal demons, at least.”

“Oh, come oooon! I can feel lust, you know. And you’re feeling a whooole lot of it --” he continued, before being cut off by a punch landing cruelly just between two of his ribs. He grimaced hard and did his best to compose himself.

“Besides, why did you assume it’s a guy?” asked Mazikeen, confusing Crowley if he should dare to continue. Though, he had to admit, she had a point. It's not like supernatural beings had a gender. Or an attraction toward only one.

“So it's a girl then?” he asked, half-expecting another punch, but only getting a frown in response, that converted as much as an actual answer.

“Is it only lust” he continued, somewhat more considerately. And it wasn't a question.

“I don't know. I guess it’s more” she answered, almost nervously, eyes glued to the ground.

“Who is it?”

“Eve” came the answer, just barely hearable for a human. Mazikeen looked down at the still kneeling Crowley and instantly regretted saying it when she saw him first shake, then actually double over with laughter.

“Eve? The Original Sinner?”

“Why is that so funny?” she snarled, and waited until he had calmed down enough to answer.

“Ah…” he managed, about to wipe his eyes, before realizing that his hands were restrained. “It’s just…”

“Why is it funny?!” she rather yelled than asked, grabbing Crowley’s hair, forcing him to look at her. The anger on her face really did help him calm down.

“I guess… You’re a demon and she’s the first woman ever created?” Hearing that, Mazikeen let go, but looked almost unsettlingly offended.

“So you think I don’t deserve her” she said, not waiting for Crowley’s protest, that he didn’t mean it like that. Her expression twisted into something entirely bitter. “Ha! Says the one who’s dating an angel.”

“For the last time: we’re not dating!”

“Whatever” dismissed the other demon, ignoring Crowley’s indignance.

“Have you told her?” he continued, getting somewhat interested.

“No. I mean yes, but she didn’t get it, then she did, then… it all got kind of complicated.”

“I’m listening” offered Crowley. Even that would be better than the torture. And while he’s listening, he might be able to figure something out.

***

It was almost half past 6 and Aziraphale was getting slightly worried. Even for Crowley it was uncharacteristic to be this late, especially when they discussed exactly when they were going to meet earlier. Aziraphale waited a few more minutes, then extended his angelic aura. He should be able to find Crowley even if he decided to go on a trip to Alpha Centauri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to set this story after Lucifer's canon (and about two decades after Good Omens book canon), so I went with established, but still establishing Deckerstar. It's up to you if Aziraphale and Crowley are involved romantically, still in the pining state or have a queerplatonic / aromantic relationship, though I prefer the latter, so there won't be any kissing. Buuuut Chapter 3 will have some BAMF Aziraphale, though it's not yet written. I might add an epilogue later, but this story will be complete (and, naturally have a happy ending) with Chapter 3.


	3. An Unnecessary Rescue

As always, things didn’t exactly happen the way they were expected to happen, but Crowley couldn’t even say he was especially surprised. At first he was convinced that the only purpose of his conversation with Mazikeen was to gain time, make plans and figure out a way to escape, but later he found out that they actually had quite a lot in common. So far they’d agreed that cold was terrible, black was sexy and (most) angels were self-righteous wankers with a ridiculously off sense of ineffability.

Mazikeen may have been considered a particularly bad listener, but it’s important to note that demons don’t usually expect the other to listen the way a human would want them to. No, when faced with a problem, demons prefer to receive advice on how to solve it, which usually involves eradicating the problem. When asked to  _ Listen _ , Mazikeen could point out various ways to eradicate the problem. Most were too violent for Crowley’s taste, but he still considered them. Giving advice on how to eradicate problems was a sign of minimal trust among demons, and Crowley was polite enough not to disregard it.

The only thing that made it slightly awkward was that Crowley still wasn’t able to move his hands, but he understood the precaution: any demon would have enough common sense not to free another demon they previously tortured, until it was absolutely necessary. Because of his inability to hold his drink, Mazikeen didn’t drink either. Crowley really appreciated it.

“So I was in Lux, just letting off some steam” started Mazikeen “and then this guy comes up to me, like ‘Can I get you a drink?’”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him ‘Listen here. I’ve been chasing this total asshole for a week. I finally found him, fought him off, was about to break his collarbone. Ran into some policemen, just patrolling and I ended up having to explain myself, then they  _ took my bounty  _ before I could do anything. So please believe me when I say I’m fucking pissed and really feel like hurting someone.’”

“And what did the guy do?”

“He stared at me… then backed away and ordered himself a cocktail” she finished off, highly amused.

“Ha. Good one” Crowley remarked, before being distracted by a familiar presence. He was about to warn the other demon, but he was already too late.

The entire room was filled with the blinding whiteness of grace. Mazikeen clenched her eyes. She’d never seen anything like this.

The menacing silhouette of an avenging angel materialized in front of Crowley. It looked much more like an angel than a human. Its ethereal essence overflowed its corporation, the slight outline of a halo shining above its head. It carried a flaming sword, had way too many eyes and over all the whiteness, a tartan bow tie was still clearly distinguishable.

Having achieved the desired effect, the silhouette dropped some of the brightness with a satisfied, but decidedly angry smile and spoke in a voice that wasn’t, in any way, human.

“ **Step away from Crowley, foul fiend!** ”

Mazikeen, who seemingly had little to no sense of self-preservation, stayed where she was. “Are you talking to me?” she asked, suppressing a yawn, but at least looking mildly perplexed.

The silhouette dropped some more brightness and changed back to a mostly human form.

“Step away right now or I’ll be forced to do something quite radical!” the angel demanded, inhuman anger painting his features. Crowley tried to move his hands in what might have been a frantically vague gesture even without the restraints.

“Ehh… Pffh. ‘Zirph-- Aziraphale!”

“Crowley! Whatever did they do to you?”

“Um. Well, it doesn’t matter, because… ‘Cause I’m fine, so why don’t we just go home and then I’ll explain stuff?” tried Crowley, lifting his palms as if attempting to calm down a wild animal.

“Are you quite sure you’re all right?” asked Aziraphale incredulously. “And who is this young woman you were talking to?”

“Ahh… She’s Mazikeen. Mazikeen, Aziraphale. She’s a… friend, so no smiting here, s’that okay?” he asked in a voice that suggested he himself didn’t believe what he just said. Aziraphale deemed it best to go along.

“Nice to meet you” he addressed the female demon with a polite, but cold smile. It was clear that Crowley wasn’t currently in danger, but stranger demons should very rarely be trusted. The angel took a step forward, fully in human form, to take in his friend and shake his head gently to express his exasperation.

“Mind you, I can’t even fathom how you manage to get yourself into situations like this. Does this have something to do with the older gentleman you insisted on irritating gratuitously? Because if it does, I did point out he seemed like the utterly wrong type of person for you to mess with…”

“Is that the flaming sword or a random blade you found that caught fire when you touched it?” interrupted Crowley with an eye roll entirely visible without his glasses. After all this time, the angel still didn’t completely accept that spreading evil was in his job description. Even if he didn’t really have a job anymore.

“Oh!” exclaimed Aziraphale, very deliberately not answering the question. “You shan’t make such remarks unless you want me to leave you here” he continued, but put out the sword in question and placed it on the floor.

“Don’t get offended. Come on already and miracle these things off me.”

“Now, don't rush me, serpent” answered Aziraphale with a reflexive smile, but stepped even closer and raised his hands, stopping when his eyes met Mazikeen, observing with mild intrigue.

“I will need you to step away now” the angel requested and only performed the miracle when the demon obliged. She gaped seeing the restraints swiftly disappear into thin air. Crowley stood up, stretched his arms and miracled a new pair of sunglasses into existence.

He sauntered to Aziraphale, smugly sliding the sunglasses up his nose. Most of his injuries have already healed, which felt bittersweet knowing he won't have any attractive scars in the future. Apparent disadvantages of being rescued by an angel.

Said angel glared consideringly at the female demon, before noticing that his friend's clothing was lacking its usual layers. He tutted and miracled the layers back on - Crowley corrected the scarf to cotton from tartan.

“We can go now?” initiated the demon, raising his hand.

“It was nice meeting you” Aziraphale turned back to Mazikeen politely, before following his friend’s gesture. In a second they both disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry for how short this is compared to the first two chapters. The characters that wouldn't shut up earlier... this time they spoke too little. I marked the fic complete, but I'll definitely write a conclusion.
> 
> I would like to thank you all for reading and for making this my most popular work yet (though it's probably due to the multiple chapters). I might write stories similar to this in the future, so you can subscribe to my account if you don't want to miss them. I'll certainly write for the Lucifer and Good Omens fandom.


	4. Epilogue

The elevator dinged and Lucifer stepped out, arriving back somewhat flustered. To his contentment, the demon he was punishing earlier was indeed gone.

“Do you need a drink?”

“I could use one, yes” he answered, eyeing helpful Mazikeen suspiciously. “It went well, then? No trouble at all?”

“Don’t humiliate me” she answered with a convincing-enough grimace. She also downed the drink in one before making another.

“What are those?” he pointed superiorly at something on the floor. “Sunglasses? Why did you not give him the sunglasses?”

Mazikeen didn’t hesitate for a second. “I knocked him out and pulled a sack over his head. He didn’t exactly need sunglasses.”

***

“Stop that! T’s annoying!”

“I’m only trying to make sure that you’re all right!”

“By circling me like a… like a…?”

“Please don’t say cat” begged the angel, scared enough to stop checking on his friend’s aura.

“...I wasn’t gonna say cat. But there was definitely something I wanted to say.”

“I'll bring vine” said Aziraphale and disappeared upstairs. Crowley took advantage of the opportunity and stared blankly at the offending air, before doing a mental fist bump with himself. When the angel came back, he already knew what to say.

“I brought you a gift.”

“A gift” said Aziraphale, with a considerable amount of cautiousness. “What is the occasion?”

“I'm alive and you're alive, we're all alive. Isn't that occasion enough?” Crowley grinned. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and softened only when he saw the demon snatch an actual book.

“C'mon, you can look at it” the demon extended his hand at the angel, who tried (without effect) to mask his enthusiasm. Which died down soon after he got a look at said book. It was Dante’s Inferno.

“Might you tell me” he started “if this book has  _ anything _ to do with what has happened to you today?”

“It may” mumbled Crowley.

“Are you asking me to accept a  _ very _ precious book I’ve been trying to find for a  _ very _ long time, which also undoubtedly has something to do with Hell?” asked the angel. “Beyond the title, that is.”

“Yes?” guessed the demon, raising his eyebrow.

“Then, I am afraid I will have to accept. As it would be awfully impolite to refuse.”

“Of course” his friend answered with deep understanding. “Real demonic is what it would be.”

“If you say so…”


End file.
